


Scenario 26

by rideswraptors



Series: Kastle Scenarios [26]
Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 13:51:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16535801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rideswraptors/pseuds/rideswraptors
Summary: “Yeah, and I’m the one who cleans you up several times a week. Besides, I never slept with Matt--”“No shit?”She rolled her eyes. Men.





	Scenario 26

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur when I wrote this.

Karen was far too used to vigilantes slinging themselves through her window at all hours of the night. She didn’t even bat an eye at it anymore. Just pulled out the first aid kit, beer, and set up a cot for whoever needed a crash pad. 

 

But still, every time Frank showed up at her door, it took her breath away. Just a little. He’d stand there, leaning in, crowding the entryway, not coming in until she let him through. Never presuming or taking advantage. His hood was always up, shielding the cuts and bruises on his face from her nosy neighbors. When Old Betty asked, Karen told her that her friend Pete was a boxer and usually got pretty beat up during fights. 

 

“He takes things on the side to make some extra money. You understand.” With a nudge and a wink, Old Betty got the drift and made sure none of the other tenants bothered her about it. 

 

Frank showed up that night, arms spread across the entry, leaning in, with a pretty nasty gash on his face. Blood was gushing down his face, thick. Meant the wound was superficial. Karen looked him over: he was favoring his right side and the sleeve on his left arm was wet and dark. She got a little too close when examining his face, finger drifting over his opposite cheekbone. 

 

“Strip,” she told him, stepping aside, “wash the blood off. I’ll be there in a sec.” She shut the door behind him and locked the three types of locks she had there. Frank did as she asked, but not before he took off his boots by the door, and went to double check her window, secure it. He’d fixed the frame and replaced the lock. Told her that if the others wanted to crash at hers, they could call first. Not that he ever did. 

 

“Are you hungry?” she called out from the kitchen. 

 

“Don’t go to any trouble on my’count,” he answered, voice drifting in the direction of the bathroom. She heard the faucet turn on, a few cabinet doors opened and closed. She’d gone out an bought bright white towels and washcloths, just for occasions like this. It sounded counterintuitive, but at least when she washed and bleached them, she knew she was getting it all out. 

 

She reheated some leftovers in the microwave, and then went to help him out. He’d stripped down to his pants, his shirt and sweatshirt in the tub with cold water. Needed some ice. She’d fill it later. Instead, she turned her attention to his bare chest as he heaved himself onto her counter, putting her at eye level with the gaping hole in his bicep. Damn thing had been stitched up several times over, the last few marks had barely begun to heal. Without a word, she set about cleaning it properly (because he never did), threaded her needle and started the stitches. Frank never complained about her haphazard methods. Rarely even winced anymore. Didn’t stop coming to her even though she gave him some pretty interesting looking scars. 

 

“Yer gettin’ better at that,” he commented, voice low and gentler than normal. Karen flicked her eyes up to him briefly, amused, as she worked. 

 

“Relatively speaking,” she murmured back, “Drinks at Claire’s are really paying off.” 

 

“Oh yeah?” 

 

“Yeah,” she said drawing the suture through, “booze, girl talk, emergency field medicine. A real triple threat, that lady.” 

 

Karen heard rather than saw his grin. 

 

“So what you stitch up bananas and compare notes on Murdock?” 

 

That comment stopped her in her tracks, so that she actually had to put down the needle for a moment to get her calm back. She wanted to stick him, badly, but she figured he’d bled enough for one night. 

 

“That was beneath you,” her voice came out as a hiss. Hurt. 

 

“M’sorry.”

 

She flicked her eyes back up at him and restarted her work, “No you’re not.” 

 

His grin was lopsided. “No. I’m not. Red annoys me.” 

 

“Yeah, and  _ I’m _ the one who cleans you up several times a week. Besides, I never slept with Matt--”

 

“No shit?” 

 

She rolled her eyes. Men. 

 

“No shit. We went on a couple of dates. A kiss or two. No sex. Happy?” 

 

Frank snorted. “What, he couldn’t close?”

 

“You think I’m easy?”

 

“Hell no. I think you’re not the kind of person who wastes time when it counts.” A small part of her, deep in her chest, fluttered at that. It soothed at the tattered edges Matt had left.  She stifled that reaction, though. “I mean, I know the guy’s blind, but I didn’t think he was a fucking moron.” 

 

“He’s not--”

 

“Yeah, he is. I was around you two for all of five minutes, and I knew. I didn’t have to ask. I knew what he meant to you. Treats you like a pretty princess when he should’ve been taking you to bed.” 

 

“Right, because you know me so well.”

 

“Because I pay attention,” he corrected, voice gentle. 

 

Karen cut the suture and got the salve to dab over the top of it, careful not to make it too thick or too thin. Then she measured out a bandage. 

 

“He had his reasons.”

 

“I’m sure they’re real fucking stupid. Would have to be to dismiss the best thing to show up at his door. I’m the one who told you to hold on, remember?” 

 

Karen stubbornly stared at his arm while she wrapped it a few times with the bandage, taping it where it wouldn’t be disturbed. 

 

“Was holding onto the wrong guy,” she countered quietly, not wanting to meet his gaze. She knew it was on her, she could feel it. Frank was usually watching her, even if he thought she didn’t know it. She knew. 

 

“Ain’t gonna argue with that,” he rambled, “you should find some boring suit with a 9 to 5 and a volvo, nice apartment, 401k. No enemies or thugs running after ‘im. No hidden agendas, secret identities. Could take you up to the Hamptons on long weekends, take care o’ya, treat you right.” 

 

Karen huffed a laugh, “A  _ volvo _ ?”

 

They both laughed, even as she picked up supplies to clean up his face. 

 

“It’s sensible,” he told her. Karen tilted her head to consider him. 

 

“And what if I don’t want sensible?” 

 

Frank snorted. “What more could you want? Sounds like a cozy, apple pie life. Would do you some good. What other kinda guy are you lookin’ for?” He sounded actually serious, as if he was completely floored by her response. She lifted her brows shortly, changing her opinion on being surprised. Frank was old school; he liked to think all women wanted the life Maria did. That no one wanted to live life in the crossfire. Karen lifted the antiseptic to his face.

 

“I dunno, Frank, maybe the guy who’s paying attention.” 

 

Her work came to a grinding halt when he snagged her wrist mid-air. Just holding, no grip. Karen could have easily pulled away and they both knew it, too. Karen’s eyes snapped to his and locked there, level and unflinching. She’d said what she said, and she meant it. She’d long since given up saying shit she didn’t mean. 

 

“Don’t say things like that.”

 

“I’ll say whatever I want. Just because you don’t wanna hear it--”

 

“Who says I don’t?” 

 

“Me. Because I pay attention, too, Frank. I see it. I know. I don’t need you to tell me. But I can’t force a decision out of you.” She shrugged. He still hadn’t released her wrist. “You come here to get cleaned up, eat, you sleep in my bed, you fix what needs fixing, you have David install extra security cameras, you make me breakfast and lock my damn window, and you think I don’t know?” 

 

“ _ Karen-- _ ”

 

Instead of pulling out of his hold, she pushed into it. She wasn’t afraid of him, she just wasn’t. The life he led was bloody and dangerous and nothing was assured. 

 

“You think I’m better off without you? Do you think Maria and the kids would have been better off without you?” He flinched. “No. Answer the question. Do you honestly believe that Maria would have given you up, given up everything you had together, on the off chance that it all went to shit someday? Do you really believe that?” 

 

He was quiet for a long while, unable to look at her, but still holding her wrist and not pushing her away.

 

“No,” Frank whispered. 

 

Karen pressed forward and pulled her lips down. “Then don’t you dare ask me. Don’t you sit there and try to tell me what I do and do not know about you, Frank Castle. Because I’m tired of it.” 

 

She felt him soften against her, hand relaxing, sliding up to grasp her hand, thread their fingers together. His head tilted to kiss her once, lips a barely there brush against hers. Dry and gentle, and much too short. 

 

“Okay. I won’t.” 

 

“Okay,” she agreed.

 

“Okay.” 

 

*

 

He and Karen established a routine; he was around much more. She knew several of the places he moved between. They talked most nights, whether he was going out or not. And he didn’t always show up just to get patched up and fed.

 

The tension had shifted between them; there were kisses and lingering touches, things said between them that couldn’t be taken back. But he wasn’t ready to cross that line with her. Not that  _ she _ wasn’t, which she made abundantly clear. Frank was retaining control less and less, each dream of her more torrid than the last. But Karen and Maria were negotiating space in his head and didn’t co-exist peacefully yet. He was getting there, just not yet. 

 

It was a surprise, however, when there was a pounding on his door late one night. Karen was supposedly working late on a lead, so he hadn’t gone over. When he opened the door to see Jessica Jones holding up a very intoxicated Karen Page, Frank realized what a mistake that was.

 

“What the hell?” he groaned. “Did you--?” 

 

Jessica scowled, kicked his door open more and hauled Karen inside. She was giggling and babbling, telling Jessica how pretty her hair was. 

 

“She showed up at Josie’s on a mission. Lucky for her, nobody can keep pace with me.”

 

“Yeah, lucky her,” Frank sneered, moving to pull Karen out of her grasp. Karen brightened considerably, apparently noticing him for the first time, and went all too eagerly.

 

“Frank!” she chirped, cuddling her body against his, rubbing her face into his chest. Frank settled his arms around her, a little disturbed by drunk Karen but not displeased either. 

 

“Hey honey,” he answered, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. She let out a sigh, so he tightened his hold on her. Jessica was watching them, arms crossed, smirk stretching her lips.

 

“She kept asking for you. Murdock insists we need to keep her away from you, but he’s not actually my boss. So. Here ya go.” She tossed Karen’s purse onto the couch and started to make her exit. 

 

“How did you know where to find me?” 

 

“I’m a PI. Murdock does actually pay me. He’s just not the boss of me.”

 

“Stop following me, Jones!’

 

“Nope!”

 

With that, Frank was left to contend with drunk Karen, who seemed to be more contented cat than raging psycho when drinking. That was a huge relief. He rubbed her back, trying to get her attention and soothe her at the same time. It wasn’t working much. She’d latched onto him pretty tight and was telling him she was comfortable right where she was, thanks. Frank rolled his eyes heavenward and tried to get her coat off. Make her more comfortable. She got with the program and removed her heels and sweater too. Then she tossed her arms around his neck, body swaying unsteadily, eyes glazed over and her face relaxed. Frank pressed kisses to her cheek and jaw, holding her upright. Then he felt a stray tear hit his nose. 

 

He pulled back, looking her square in the eye and her expression crumpled miserably. 

 

“Got into a fight with Matt,” she finally told him, voice too low and words too slurred for normalcy. 

 

“Must’ve been a doozy,” he murmured, “you always fight with Matt.” 

 

She inhaled, long and deep, tipped her head back and watched him with hooded eyes. 

 

“Fought about you,” she said. It felt like she was pulling away from him, slightly. Just a little bit of intentional drift, to put distance between them. Frank knew she was feeling insecure, knew she needed contact. So he jerked her right back to him, grip tight. Her cheek jumped. “He doesn’t want me, but he sure as hell won’t let anybody else have me either.” 

 

Frank licked his lips to keep quiet, nodding slightly, and then abruptly bent to sweep her off her feet. Literally. Picked her up bridal style, making her squeak and flail for a moment before her arms went around his neck. Frank walked them to the couch, sat down with her across his lap. He kissed her forehead, smiled when she leaned into the touch, nuzzled against her temple.

 

“Tell me.”

 

She tried. Not coherently because she was drunk. Essentially, it went like this: she’d been working in peace (thinking about calling him to come over, actually), when Matt showed up at the door, looking pissed. He went through the pleasantries, asked what she was working on, and then immediately jumped into a lecture about Frank. 

 

“He said spending time with you was a bad idea. That you were dangerous. That you got people killed.” 

 

“Pot. Kettle,” Frank grumbled.

 

“Tha’s what I said,” she told him with a smile, playing with the collar of his shirt. He kissed her cheek for the sheer cuteness of it. “He just kept saying how bad you were, that you were going to get me killed, that I didn’t know what I was doing.” 

 

Frank let out a noisy sigh, his hand slipping down the length of her leg, squeezing at her knee.

 

“He’s not totally wrong--”

 

She swatted at him. “Hush. Lecturing you is  _ my _ job,” she informed him imperiously. 

 

“My bad. Carry on.” 

 

“He jus’ kep’  _ talking _ and talking and talking.” She wagged a finger at him, sluggishly, “I admit, I said some not so good things. But he wus bein’ a dick.” Frank held back his laugh on that one. “So...I climbed out the window.”

 

“You what?”

 

“It seemed like something you would do. So I went with it.” 

 

“That’s ridiculous,” he said with a snort. He could just imagine the stupid look on Murdock’s face when he realized what Karen had done. Woman was a loon. 

 

“I didn’t say I was being smart. I jus’ dini wanna lissen.” 

 

She was firmly settled against him now, moving against him, and it was such a bad idea to carry on in that position. Frank was a lot of things, but he was not the kind of guy who took advantage of a drunk woman. Not in this lifetime. Sure, he’d hold her, comfort her with touches and kisses until she fell asleep, but her movement against him was fucking deliberate. And it was truly a test of his willpower not to tuck her under his body and get his mouth on her until she screamed for him. Frank had to shake the thought away because she was still talking. About what, he had no idea.

 

She dropped her head to his shoulder. “I’m jus’ tired, Frank. Tired of fighting with him. About him.”

 

“Can’t blame you for that, honey,” he answered, kissing the top of her head. He rubbed her thigh. “You hungry?” She shook her head. “You should eat anyway. C’mon, up.” 

 

Karen complained all the way to the kitchen, whining even as she kept hold of him. He moved and stretched to accommodate her while he worked. Just reheated leftover spaghetti. But she was swaying too much in his arms, and somehow they started slow dancing. A shuffle of feet, his hands splayed across her back. He kept pressing kisses to her face, everywhere but her lips, which seemed to annoy her. It was entertaining, so he kept doing it. 

 

Then, out of nowhere, she was dashing out of his arms to the bathroom. He heard her knees hit the floor and he had to run his tongue over his lips to keep from laughing outright. No food then, got it. He grabbed a bottle of water and went in after her. Stood beside her and gathered her hair up while she vomited her guts into his toilet. She gagged.

 

“Better not be laughing.”

 

“Never.” 

 

She spat once more and sat back on her heels, taking in gulps of air. She tilted her head to look up at him, eyes watery and more concerned with watching him than sitting upright. He brushed her hair back with his fingers, and it struck him. Hard. Knee to his nuts.

 

He was in love with her. 

 

He’d known it in the back of his head. Some quiet place he’d ignored long enough to save her life a few times over. The ridiculousness of the whole situation was not lost on him. He was a vigilante, a killer, who’d been hunted by the feds. She was a reporter with superhuman friends and spent her days ripping the wealthy and powerful of New York to shreds. 

 

She turned her head back to the toilet and vomited again.  

 

Frank managed to wrangle her into comfortable clothing, gave her a spare toothbrush and some aspirin. Then she got whiny again, clinging to him, so he carried her over to his bed. She’d been there a few times already. This apartment, in particular, was one of his regular spots. Karen curled up onto what she’d deemed her side and made a backward, grabby hand movement until he complied and climbed in next to her. Immediately, she turned to face him, burrowing her head between him and the pillow. She was shaking. So Frank made quick work of his shirt, discarding it on the floor so that she could use him for body heat. Before he knew what she was doing, she was tossing his oversized shirt off as well, pressing up against him. He cursed under his breath because she didn’t have a bra on. 

 

Karen was in no position to be dealing with him, his realizations, or his erections, so he tossed all of it out the window and hauled her closer. Her contented sigh was more than enough of a reward.

 

*

 

As surprising as drunk Karen showing up at his door in the middle of the night had been, Matt Murdock showing up the following morning was not. When the knock came, and Murdock’s voice drifted in from the other side, Frank flipped off the stove and stormed over the there. He yanked the door open and then shut it a little behind him. Just to piss the guy off.

 

Logically, Frank knew Murdock couldn’t see, but he also knew that Matt knew he was half naked. So with that and shutting the door, as if to shield the view of Karen from onlookers, Frank was smirking. Reality was she was tucked back in a corner where no one could see her, but she could shoot their head off in an instant. Just the way they both liked it. Still, Murdock’s nose scrunched up, irritated.

 

“Keep it down, asshole,” Frank growled out, low enough that it wouldn’t disturb Karen.

 

“Where’s Karen?”

 

“Where she’s supposed to be. Asleep.”  _ In my bed _ , he tacked on mentally. He was really trying not to be smug about it. 

 

“I need to talk to her.”

 

“Not now you don’t.” 

 

“I think that’s up to her.”

 

Frank rolled his eyes. “It  _ will _ be. Once she’s awake and has some food in her.”  _ And an entire bottle of aspirin because fuck knew, she was going to be a bear _ . Murdock stepped closer, attempting to intimidate. 

 

“You need to stay away from her.” 

 

“Yer somethin’ else, you know that?” Frank said with a shake of his head. “You piss her off. She gets drunk. She comes to me. And somehow this is on me? Get yer head outta yer ass, Murdock.” 

 

“If she would just--”

 

“Nothing,” Frank snapped. “Karen doesn’t owe you shit. If she wants to talk to you, she’ll call you. But right now? Get the hell away from my door.” 

 

Unwilling to stop himself, Frank shoved him back a little and slammed the door in his face. It did indicate how upset the guy was if his reactions were that slow. Usually wouldn’t let Frank get the upper hand like that. Karen would come around, he knew that much, but Red would be licking his wounds for  _ a while _ . 

 

Frank straightened, focusing his full attention, when he saw Karen was sitting up in bed, sheet pulled around her. She looked cold, so he decided to fix that. He snatched a hoodie and a blanket off the sofa, and ambled over to her. He tossed her his hoodie and climbed onto the bed to spread the blanket out behind them. His sweatshirt was huge on her. He usually forgot how small she was compared to him; Karen always seemed to take up all the space around him. Easy to forget. She pulled the hood up and curled into him, pulling his arm around her and completely ignoring the blanket. 

 

“How ya feel?”

 

“Like death,” she grumbled, making him chuckle. “Matt’ll be back.” The implication being that she didn’t want to call him, meaning she didn’t want to talk to him. Frank had to stamp down his crow of victory. 

 

“Fuck ‘im.”

 

“I should apologize for leaving.”

 

“Do ya want to?”

 

“No,” she answered quietly. 

 

“Then don’t. Let ‘im suffer for a bit. Deserves it for all his sermonizing.” 

 

Karen leaned half of her body over him, practically covering his chest as she considered him. Frank kept a hand securely at her hip to keep her in place. Maybe it wasn’t totally necessary, but he felt like it was. 

 

“Sorry for dumping it all on you.”

 

Frank reached his hand up to brush her hair back, tuck it behind her ear and let his fingers trickle through her long locks. 

 

“I don’t mind,” he murmured. “I like having you here.”

 

“Yeah?” she asked with a grin. 

 

Frank nodded, “Yeah.” She dipped and pressed a light, close-mouthed kiss to his lips. Too sweet and not enough. “He’s not wrong, Karen,” he continued. “He’s not right, but he’s not wrong either.” 

 

She was shaking her head at him, stroking his day-old stubble, which he found that she was increasingly fascinated with. He’d decided to grow it out a little for her. Not too much, just enough to keep her hands on him. 

 

“He’s only saying it because he can’t have me. He’s made that decision, and now he’s trying to make my decisions. As if I’d let him.” There was that sharpness. Alcohol had dulled it, made her weepy and sad, but the fire blew right back up. “I care about Matt,” she added, “but he doesn’t get to dictate who I spend my time with. And he certainly can’t tell me who I love.” 

 

His eyes widened at her, and he knew it, but he kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t going to tell her in the wake of a Murdock mess. Karen deserved much better than that. She deserved better than the both of them combined, but she’d made her choice. That was obvious. And Frank had no power against her; no chance of denying her anything she asked.

 

So he pressed up to kiss her, to drag his hands through her hair, position her where he wanted so that he could thrust his tongue deeper and get some sense of satisfaction from the way she purred and moved against him. Their current state, the stench of sleep and alcohol didn’t even phase him. Karen kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm, swinging a leg over his hips to straddle him. 

 

“How bad was I last night?” she asked around their kiss, lips pulling in a smile. 

 

“I’ve seen worse.” 

 

“Say anything embarrassing?” 

 

He snorted quietly, thumb stroking her cheek. He tried to school his expression into something neutral and definitely failed. 

 

“You promised a lot of sexual favors--”

 

She smacked at his shoulder, squawking indignantly. “I did not!”

 

“Listen, lady, I don’t know what you girls do in Vermont, but I am a human person not a piece of meat--” he teased. She grabbed a pillow and smashed it over his face. Frank retaliated by lurching up and tackling her to the bed, kissing her neck and face, tickling. 

 

“ _ Noo _ ,” she whined, “too weak. Body hurts.” 

 

Frank dipped to bite at her ear, reveling in the way she pushed her hips up into his in response. 

 

“Maybe next time you come to me first instead of Jessica friggin’ Jones.” 

 

She’d maneuvered them so that he was cradled in the V of her legs, her calves resting over his hips while he kissed and bit at her neck. He’d not meant for anything to escalate, but she was wearing his hoodie and sleeping in his bed and not trying to run away. These were all positive indications that she wanted to be there. 

 

“And what would you do?” she rasped, hugging him to her. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. 

 

“Make you dinner. Draw a bath and follow you in. Put my head between your thighs and use my mouth on you until you pass out.”

 

“That’s--”

 

“You haven’t let me yet,” he mused, nuzzling against her cheek, pressing kisses from her temple down to her jaw, and then catching her mouth briefly. “But you will.” She clamped her hands on his face, jerking his mouth to hers in frustration, and kissed him furiously. Frank just held on and tried to keep up as her tongue swept through his mouth, teasing. “Want it as bad as you, honey,” he confessed, voice ragged and wrecked while she tried to devour him. 

 

“Frank--”

 

“Been making myself wait for you, cause I thought it would help. Doesn’t. Makes it worse.” He skimmed his hands up her back, under the hoodie, splaying them across bare skin. He felt her shudder under his touch. It was stupidly gratifying. 

 

Karen suddenly ripped her mouth away from him, making him whimper out a protest, and sat up in his lap, twisting her hips just to drive him insane. She pulled his hands into hers, put them on her thighs, guided them up her belly and ribs. Frank didn’t need help getting the rest of the way. 

 

“Got plans today?” she asked him, sounding out of breath. 

 

“Mostly you. A naked you.” 

 

“So undisciplined,” she teased, lifting and twisting her hips more. She bent over him to kiss him soundly. “Feed me first?” 

 

“Anything you want.”

  
  



End file.
